


You've Got Me

by cassbutt_67



Series: To Speak the Language of Flowers [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anxiety, Barista Castiel, Cute, Destiel Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feelings, Florist Dean, Fluff, Internalized Homophobia, Kissing, Language of Flowers, Light Angst, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-08-08 03:12:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7741132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassbutt_67/pseuds/cassbutt_67
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A family dinner, a completely unexpected phone call, and many heartfelt conversations. What has become of the summer? Castiel and Dean might have some issues to work through, but at least they know they've got each other. </p><p>Or, the one where Castiel has to deal with tourists, his overbearing parents, and the past while Dean is faced with a rather unwanted situation. The summer is quickly coming to a close, and Castiel can't believe he's been with Dean for four months. Even more, he can't believe how well he's doing, and neither can his parents. In spite of their problems, the two are going strong and overall, things do seem to be continuing on their upward swing. It could definitely be much worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You've Got Me

**Author's Note:**

> I thought of adding more to this, but I liked how it ended, so I just left it this way.
> 
> Just a disclaimer, I haven't proofread this so if there are any mistakes or anything please let me know. I'm really proud of some parts of this, others I feel kind "eh" about. I'd love feedback from you either way! Let me know what you like, what you don't, or make plot suggestions. All are welcome :) Thank you for reading thus far!! 
> 
> (I do not own Supernatural/ its characters, plot is my own)  
> Source for the flowers: victorianbazaar.com/meanings.html

_ “So  _ I’m  _ the disappointment, then?” _

_ “Son, that’s not what I said,” John Winchester pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. _

_ “You’re implying it,” Dean slurred. _

_ “No,” he replied sternly. “What I’m trying to say is I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I did this to you. I’m sorry for everything, I wish I could take it back, I really do. But we both know that’s not possible.” _

_ Dean set the bottle down and looked at him incredulously. “You’re  _ ‘sorry’ _? After thirteen years of  _ shit  _ and all you’ve got to say is  _ ‘sorry’ _?” _

_ John sighed and simply said, “I know,” his voice melancholic. _

_ “Un-fuckin’-believable,” Dean muttered.  _

_ After a moment’s silence, Dean stood. “So what,” he said, “now you’re leaving? For  _ good _?” _

_ John hesitated. “You know it’s for the best.” _

_ “No, I don’t!” Dean screamed, forgetting Sammy was asleep just up the stairs. “And neither do you! You think you’ve fucked up so badly we don’t want you to at least  _ try  _ to be a decent person? You think this is gonna go over well with  _ me  _ raising Sam?” _

_ “Dean, you’ve already raised him.” _

_ “That’s not the point!” _

_ “Then what  _ is  _ the point, huh? Don’t you think I’ve done enough damage?” _

_ Instead of commenting, Dean went to the cupboard and took the whiskey from the top shelf, slamming a glass onto the counter. _

_ “Dean, don’t you dare--” John started, advancing toward his son. _

_ “What’s one more really gonna do?” Dean said nonchalantly as he poured himself a glass. _

_ John snatched the bottle from his hands. “I will not let you do this.” _

_ “Since when have you ‘let’ me do anything? You think you’re my father or somethin’? ‘Cause last I checked, you haven’t been here more than a few weeks at a time in  _ years,  _ John. And I--” _

_ John suddenly threw the bottle across the floor and seized Dean by the collar as the glass shattered, sending shards dancing across the splintering floor. He brazenly pinned him against the wall, raising a fist ready to collide with Dean’s face. He stopped as he was met with a steadfast gaze, not even a hint of a flinch. _

_ “Do it,” Dean spat. “Go on,  _ do it _.” _

_ He lowered his fist, releasing his son. “No. I said never again.” _

_ “You’ve said it a million times before that.” _

_ “Yeah well, I meant it last time. Goodbye, Dean.” _

_ “Fuck you, John.” _

_ Dean stumbled, trying to regain his balance as his father went out the door. He lurched forward, catching himself on the corner of the counter and wobbled to the open door, crying down the steps, “I hope you find what you’re looking for!” _

 

“Dean?” There was a firm, calloused hand on his wrist and a pair of deep blue eyes meeting his own, full of concern.

“Huh?” he managed, snapped out of his daydreaming.

“Is everything alright?” He was rubbing a thumb over Dean’s knuckles. Castiel. His kitchen table. The dinner. Cas had dropped a glass on the floor. He was cleaning it up. It was coming back to him slowly.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, of course,” he faltered.

Cas didn’t believe him. He knew he couldn’t lie to him, but he didn’t know what brought on the sudden memory. Well,  _ that  _ wasn’t entirely true either.

It was the 10 of August, which marked the last day Dean had seen John Winchester. This usually meant drinking away such memories as these, but he hadn’t touched the stuff in nearly two years. That couldn’t happen again.

“Dean,” Cas insisted. “What’s wrong?”

He sighed. “It’s been six years since I’ve seen my dad,” he said, averting his eyes. “When you dropped your glass, it just, I dunno, made me think of the day he left.”

“Ah, a flashback,” he nodded understandingly. 

“Yeah. But it’s fine,” Dean said, trying to brush it off. 

“It’s not fine, it’s upsetting. And six years is a long time. Have you talked to him since then?” Castiel made his way back to his seat after sweeping the glass fragments into the trash. 

Dean shook his head. “No, not really. He’s called Sammy on his birthday a few times, but we didn’t exactly part on good terms.”

“I should say not, he was abusive to you, Dean.”

“Yeah, I know. But the thing is, one night, months before he left, he saw me coming down the stairs and out of  _ nowhere _ ,  he just  _ lost _ it and started crying and promised he’d never hurt me again.”

“And did he?” Cas asked tentatively.

Dean took a deep breath. “No. He almost did, the day he left. But he didn’t. He just walked out.”

“So…” Castiel started, “no one knew? That he was hurting you?”

“Sam did. But not until he was old enough to understand.”

“I still don’t understand how someone could do such a thing,” Cas was shoving peas around his plate with his fork angrily.

“Cas, you gotta understand,” Dean retorted. “My mother died when I was like five years old. She was killed in a drive-by on her way home from work. It’s not like she was sick, it’s not like any of us were  _ expecting _ her to die, alright? It was sudden and horrible and the guy lost his friggin mind over it. She was the love of his life.”

“You are his  _ child _ , Dean,” Cas said sternly, looking into Dean’s face. “What happened to your mother is horrible, and no one should have to go through that pain but do you honestly think the proper thing to do in that situation is to hurt the ones closest to you? Your own  _ children?  _ The ones you’ve had with the love of your life?”

“I don’t  _ know  _ what the ‘proper thing to do’ would be, Cas! Does  _ anyone _ in that type of situation?”

“Why are you defending him? Making excuses?” Cas was shaking his head.

He really couldn’t understand. Dean raised his voice, “Dammit, Cas I’m not  _ defending  _ him! It’s not an  _ excuse  _ it’s,” he sighed and rubbed his hands over his face, his manner softening. “It’s just the reason he did it.”

When he looked up again he saw Castiel’s gaze unwavering. “I just…” Dean was finding it difficult to form the sentence. This was something he had never admitted. To  _ anyone _ . He wasn’t used to bearing his soul like this, even though he had come to accept it more since he began dating Cas. This was something else entirely, given he tried to avoid discussing his past too deeply.

“I feel guilty,” he mumbled.

Castiel’s expression softened at this. “Dean,” he said. “Why would you feel guilty?”

“Because he apologised, Cas. He apologised before he left and I didn’t take it. I was drunk. Like  _ really  _ drunk. I feel like it might have been the most honest thing he ever said to me and I played it off like it was nothing. I said ‘fuck you, John’ instead.”

They were quiet for a few moments before Cas said, “I think I can see why you’d feel that way. But from where I’m sitting, it seems as though one apology might not be enough. I think that’s something for which you really have to  _ show  _ you’re sorry.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I think so, too. But that hasn’t stopped me from feeling bad about it.”

He didn’t know what else to say, so he opted to change the subject. “So, what were you saying before I zoned out? Something about your parents coming over for dinner?”

Cas studied his face briefly, but nodded. “Yes, my mother and father want to have dinner with us on Friday after I finish at Harvelle’s.”

“That’ll be nice. You want them to come here? We could grill some burgers and corn on the cob. Maybe some salad, too.”

“That would be great,” said Cas. “What time works for you?”

“Let’s say 7:00pm?”

“Sure, I will let them know.”

“Great, I’ll pick you up at Harvelle’s if you want so we can come get a head start cooking.”

“Alright, we’ll do that then.”

They finished eating and began washing the dishes. Dean was scrubbing the frying pan when he heard his phone ring. Castiel placed the plate he was holding into the cabinet and took the phone from the table as Dean dried his hands. 

Taking the phone from Cas, he picked up, “Hello?”

“Dean?” said a deep voice at the other end.

He felt his heart hammering in his chest. “Speaking,” he made a feeble attempt at maintaining his full composure.

“Dean, it’s uh, it’s your old man. It’s John.”

Castiel was giving him an apprehensive look as he resumed cleaning. Dean took a deep breath, unsure of what to say or how he was even feeling about this phone call. “Uh, hi John.”

“Dean, listen,” said John, “I, uh, I wanted to talk to you. In person.”

“Why?” Dean snapped. “Why now?”

“Because,” he replied, his voice steady. “Because I got some help. And I’ve done a lot of soul-searching and, well, I found what I was looking for.”

Dean sharply drew in a breath at the phrase. “Oh yeah? So what do you need me for?”

“That’s just it, Dean. The thing I was missing in my life? It was family. And I threw it away.”

Dean bit his lip, ignoring Cas’ stares for the time being. “You sure did. You know how long it’s been?”

“Yes, I do. But I want to try this again. If you’ll let me.”

Dean tried to think, tried to make the best decision. But this was a fairly difficult decision to make over the phone. He knew he might kick himself for it later, but he replied, “Fine,” exasperated. “When and where?”

He heard John sigh with obvious relief, a smile creeping into his tone. “Next Saturday. Meet at Ellen’s café?”

“Does she know you’re coming?”

“She knows I’m asking you.”

“Fine. Ellen’s. I’ll be there at 1:00pm.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much, Dean. This means--”

“Save it, John. I’ll see you next week.”

And he hung up the phone, collapsing onto his couch. After putting the remaining dishes away, Castiel sat softly beside him.

“Was that--?”

“Yup.”

“And?”

He met Cas’ gaze. “And I’m meeting him at Harvelle’s next Saturday afternoon.”

Castiel nodded and placed a hand on his shoulder. Dean leaned into the touch, pulling him into a hug. They sat silently for several minutes, and Dean closed his eyes as he rested his cheek on Castiel’s shoulder, relishing the solace he found in the slow, back-and-forth motion of Cas’ hand on his back. 

When he pulled away, he laced his fingers with Castiel’s. “Thank you,” he said.

“For what?” Cas looked confused.

“For being here,” he smiled.

This was apparently cause for Castiel to take his face in his hands and begin to kiss him fervently, pressing his lips quickly to Dean’s mouth, his cheeks, his nose, his forehead, his jaw, and back to his mouth.

Dean chuckled and reciprocated that last kiss happily. Even if this impromptu meeting with his father went less than perfectly, at least he knew he had Castiel to fall back on, and that felt wonderful. 

 

***

Castiel stared anxiously at the clock above the espresso machine. He was absentmindedly fingering the edelweiss petals that sat in a neat bouquet by the register’s computer.  _ Courage _ . He’d sure need it tonight. Get-togethers with his parents always made him nervous since he moved to the west coast,  and though their encounter at the wedding had gone well enough, this was an entirely different beast. This was a dinner at his  _ boyfriend’s _ home. Just the four of them. It was nothing short of heart attack-inducing. 

“Castiel?” Jo’s voice came from behind him

“Yes?” 

She cleared her throat, subtly, but pointedly, tilting her head forward.  _ Shit,  _ he thought. There was a rather peevish customer standing before him.

“Sorry, sir, can I help you?”

“I’ve been standing here ringing this bell for five minutes.” The man grumbled.

“I apologise, sir. What can I help you with?”

“You couldn’t hear that  _ bell? _ ”

Castiel was quickly becoming fed up with these tourists. Unlike the northeast, being on the west coast meant no breaks from them, no “off-season” because the weather was so mild in the winter.

“My sincerest apologies,” he said, slightly exasperated. “Please let me take your order.”

“I don’t like your tone.”

_ Jesus Christ this is going to be a long afternoon _ .

He couldn’t remember a time when he was so relieved to be told to clean the coffee machines. By the time his shift was over, Castiel had dealt with a myriad of uncooperative customers, all of which had left his nerves frayed. He sighed heavily when Dean approached the counter and enveloped him into a tight hug before he could get any form of greeting out of his mouth.

Dean squeezed him tightly. “Rough day?” he asked.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Cas muttered into Dean’s shoulder.

He laughed loudly at this. “Alright, well let’s go and get the grill started, hm? It’s gonna be fine.”

“Good luck with the folks,” Ellen called as she came out from the back room.

“It’s all gonna be good, Ellen,” said Dean as Castiel made his way to the back room to collect his work bag.

“Let me know how it goes?” 

“Absolutely.”

“Do you need anything else?” asked Cas. 

She shook her head and leaned on the counter. “Nah, we’re all set. Just gotta lock up. Have a good night.”

“Okay, you too.”

They walked out to the car and drove toward Dean’s building. But when they pulled up front, Castiel threw Dean a concerned look as he saw the car behind which they had parked.

“Dean,” he said.

“What?”

“They’re early.”

“What, is that their car?”

He nodded solemnly. 

“Shit. An  _ hour? _ ” Dean stared at the car in disbelief.

“Yeah, those are my parents.”

“When did they even fly in?”

“Four days ago. They were visiting the south.”

He sighed. “Well, we’d better go get the grill started. It won’t take long to make the food, don’t worry.”

Cas just gritted his teeth and followed Dean, bracing himself as they made their way up the final flight of stairs.

Sure enough, there were Mrs. and Mr. Novak standing by the door with the copper “12A”. Castiel’s mother quickly pulled him into a hug; Cas patted her back stiffly.

“Mother, you’re an hour early,” he said.

“Well hello to you too, Castiel,” she said, pulling away to get a better look at him. 

“Your mother  _ insisted  _ you wouldn’t mind,” his father chimed in as Dean fumbled with the doorknob.

“It’s no trouble, sir,” he said as he managed to open the door and let them all inside.

Dean told the Novaks to make themselves comfortable and let them know he’d be going out to the fire escape landing to start up the grill. Castiel offered to help bring out the frozen patties they’d prepared the night before along with the corn and hot dogs they’d purchased. Once the food was on the grill, Cas could find no other excuse to avoid his parents, so he simply sat with them in the living room, perching himself on the green chair beside the couch. 

Luckily, they were able to focus mostly on their trip they’d taken to the south, which included many anecdotes involving hitchhikers and whale watches. They had so many stories to tell, they didn’t have a chance to ask Castiel any anxiety-inducing questions before Dean came into the kitchen with the plates of food.

They sat around the small kitchen table, Dean taking a spare folding chair from his closet for himself, and began to eat.

“You’ve got quite a talent here, Dean,” Chuck commented as he chewed his burger.

“Thank you sir, I try,” said Dean. 

“Castiel, you seem quiet,” said Naomi, taking a generous helping of salad.

“I’m just enjoying the company,” he replied.

“We haven’t really spoken to you since the wedding.” She took a bite of her burger, looking at him expectantly.

Castiel could feel his face beginning to grow pink. “I’ve been well,” he said truthfully.

“Really?” said Chuck. 

He looked at his father, eyes slightly narrowed. “Yes… why?”

“Honey,” Naomi reached across the table and placed her hand on his, “we know how upsetting it was for you to see Al--”

“Then  _ why,  _ pray tell, would you bring it up?” he snapped. 

Naomi took her hand back, looking flustered. “Well, we just-- we wanted--”

“We wanted to make sure you were okay,” Chuck finished.

“I’m fine,” said Cas.

Dean looked helpless as Naomi began again, “He was only there to congratulate your brother--”

“But he  _ knew  _ I would be there, did he not?”

“Yes, but--”

“Enough,” he said as he rubbed his forehead. “Please. Let’s just move past it.”

“But son, we wanted to be sure you didn’t need any help with the, ah,  _ expenses _ .”

Cas looked at his father. “What expenses?” He was genuinely confused.

“For the, ah,” he lowered his voice as if there were others listening, “hospital?”

Castiel was momentarily rendered speechless. Did they really think him so inept? At this point in his life?

“There was no hospital stay,” he said calmly. “I told you, I’m  _ fine _ .”

“Really, sir,” Dean piped up. “Cas is just fine. I see him almost every day, he’s been good.”

Chuck raised his eyebrows, but said nothing. In an attempt to fill the awkward silence, Dean cleared his throat and said, “So, does anyone want more food? I’ve still got some left I can throw on if you’re still hungry.”

“No, thank you, Dean. This was wonderful,” said Naomi.

“Mmm, yes thank you, Dean,” Chuck said, nodding in assent.

“I’m gonna make one more for myself.” Dean stood and headed back out to the grill. 

“I’ll join you,” Chuck said rather awkwardly, trailing behind Dean.

Castiel went to the sink and began to clean up, looking for anything to distract his thoughts. He could just overhear the conversation his father was having with Dean as the sound of sizzling hamburger resonated through the metal landing.

“I wanted to thank you,” Chuck said in a low voice.

“It was no problem,” Dean assured him. “You’re welcome to visit anytime.”

“No, no. Not for that. For Castiel.”

Dean gave him a quizzical look. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, well we haven’t seen him doing this well in a long time. He’s never gotten over a big panic attack like that so quickly, either. And we just wanted to thank you. We know you played a big part in this.”

Dean looked thoughtfully toward the grill before looking back at Chuck. “I’ve seen a change in him, too. But honestly, you really shouldn’t thank me. As much as I may have done for him, he’s helped me more than he will ever know.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, it is.”

Castiel could feel his bubbling irritation ebbing away as he heard Dean say these words. Had he really helped him? He couldn’t fathom how  _ he _ , of all people, could have done so. 

Just then, his mother was beside him at the sink. “Castiel?” she said.

“Hm?” he looked up from the plate he had been absentmindedly scrubbing.

“I’m happy that you are happy.” And she sounded like she meant it, which made him smile.

“So am I.”

“And I wanted to apologise for Hannah and Lu’s behaviour at the wedding.”

“You don’t need to apologise on their behalf,” Castiel scoffed. “I’d rather them apologise in person.”

“Honey, you know they’re just a little…”

“Homophobic?” Cas ventured.

“Well, I was going to say traditional.”

“I don’t see how the rest of our family is just as religious as they claim to be, yet you and father and everyone else seem to be fine with it. Unless… you’re not actually okay with it?” This thought hadn’t occurred to him previously.

“No, no,” Naomi assured him. “We really don’t care, Castiel. We just want you to be happy.”

He nodded as Dean and Chuck came through the door to the fire escape, Dean munching on his burger and Chuck giving Castiel a pat on the back.

“Well son, we should be going. Thank you both, this has been lovely.”

“Anytime,” said Dean, walking with them to the door.

Castiel gave them both hugs goodbye and wished them a safe flight home. Once they were alone, Dean sat on the couch and patted the cushion next to him, ushering Cas to sit. He did so, sighing heavily and sinking into the cushions.

“That wasn’t so bad,” said Dean, kissing Castiel’s forehead.

“No, it could have been worse.”

“Hey Cas?”

“Hm?”

“Who’s Al?”

He knew Dean would ask. Of course he would, and he had a right to know, Cas thought. So he took a deep breath and said, “Al is the one who sexually abused me.”

“Ah, and he was at the wedding?”

“Yes. He wasn’t supposed to be. I wasn’t expecting him to be there, and it was extremely unnerving.”

“Yeah, I can imagine.” There was a pause before Dean added, “Do you mind me asking how long ago that happened?”

Cas leaned back into the arm of the couch and lay his legs across Dean’s lap. “When I was twelve. Until I was fourteen.” He stared at a hole forming at the corner of the cushion. “I felt really fucked up for a long time after. Life was so much simpler before, though I guess I didn’t realise.”

“What was before like?” asked Dean softly. He slung his arm over the back of the couch, resting the other over Cas’ leg and rubbing his thumb along his shin.

Cas finally met his gaze. “It was… interesting.” He chuckled. “I grew up with two older brothers in a town outside Albany, New York. Both my parents are lawyers, Balthazar always wanted to be a lawyer and Gabriel always wanted to own a business. I was the weird one who liked biology.”

“Yeah that had to have been interesting,” he mused. “How much older are your brothers anyway?”

“Balthazar is seven years older than me and Gabriel is four.”

“So you’ve always been the black sheep.”

Castiel nodded. “Yes, since the beginning. They used to tease me because I would sit outside for hours watching different insects in the yard, just interested in what they were doing. Especially the bees. Mother was a little frightened the first time she saw me petting one on a clover.”

Dean raised his eyebrows. “I’m sorry, you were  _ petting  _ a  _ bee?” _

“Yes, they are quite soft actually,” he said matter-of-factly.

Dean laughed, “You’re somethin’ else, man. Petting bees, I’ve never heard of such a thing. You ever get stung?”

He shook his head. “No. I only pet the bumble bees. They aren’t aggressive unless they feel threatened.”

“You’re amazing, you know that?”

Castiel blushed and looked away mumbling, “It’s just a bee…”

“So that’s why you did entomology I guess, huh?”

“Yes. After the, um,  _ incident _ I started to really focus on academics, like I’ve told you. More so than before it happened.”

“Distracting yourself. I get that. Although I have to say, I feel like maybe distracting yourself with academic work is probably a better choice than using alcohol,” he huffed a humourless laugh.

“Perhaps. But it was rather unhealthy all the same. Especially once I got to university. I was in denial about what had happened for a long time. I told myself my mental health problems had nothing to do with it. And when I chose my major, well I definitely chose correctly because I love the topic but I barely slept, or ate, or left the library.”

“Damn, you were one of those kids? I was never one to try too hard. But growing up was a little different for me.”

Castiel was pleased Dean was finally starting to open up more about his life prior to university; he had always wondered but didn’t want to upset Dean by asking. Although, Dean could probably say the same for him, considering he rarely discussed anything prior to moving out west. “It must have been difficult,” he commented.

“Well, the beginning was pretty rough,” Dean replied. “I don’t remember my mom really. And Sam was just a baby, so he doesn’t either. Dad lost it pretty shortly after she died. Started going away on long business trips, came home and drank. I remember the first time he hit me.” 

Castiel looked nervously at Dean. “Were you little?”

“I was eleven. Sammy saw, but none of us said anything. Thankfully he was gone more often than not. And a lot of times we got to stay with Ellen and Bobby. We’re so lucky to have had them.”

“I’m glad they were there for you,” Cas said sincerely. “They are good people.”

“Yeah, they sure are,” he paused, looking pensive. “You know, honestly, my situation could have been a lot worse.”

Castiel just looked at him, wondering how in the world he could think such a thing when he had been given such a horrible hand from the start. 

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Well I mean, I did have Sam and Ellen and Bobby and Jo, right? Gettin’ knocked around a little every once in awhile wasn’t the worst that could’ve happened. Sammy was alright, we had a house, and food most of the time. Plus we still got to go to school. My family might be a little broken, but they’re always there for me, and that’s what counts.”

Castiel smiled and sat up, leaning forward so he was laying on top of Dean with his head on his chest. Dean wrapped his arms around his back.

“Dean, you really amaze me.”

He felt Dean’s laugh rumble in his chest. “This is the sappiest conversation I’ve ever had in my life,” he said.

“Good,” said Cas. “It’s good for you to be sappy sometimes.”

He responded by leaning forward and placing a kiss on Cas’ forehead.

 

***

 

Dean hadn’t been this anxious in a  _ very  _ long time. His thoughts lingered on the conversation he’d had with Castiel just the day before.

“Are you okay meeting my dad if he wants to meet you?” Dean had asked.

Cas had simply nodded hesitantly. “If he wants to.”

“I’ll be there,” Dean assured him. “And you can always say no later on. I’ll just tell him you’re busy. But if you do meet him, just be aware he might, uh, say some stupid shit, alright?”

Castiel looked puzzled. “How do you mean?”

“I mean he might try to say things to make you pissed at me. That’s kinda what he does.”

The look Cas had given him was enough in itself to allay his fears, but he said, “Dean, I don’t think I would believe the words of your deadbeat father sooner than yours. Whatever he says isn’t going to make me pissed at you.”

He thought about that conversation now as he sat at a table in Harvelle’s café, his hands idly playing with the bouquet of snowdrops and oak leaves he had hidden in his bag sitting on the windowsill beside him. He glanced down at the startlingly white petals contrasted with the leaves, his latest message from Cas, who was working at the coffee machines.  _ Consolation. Bravery. _ How did he get this lucky?

He didn’t have much time to dwell on it as he felt his stomach sink, whatever hint of a smile brought on by Cas’ flowers completely fallen. He hadn’t seen the man in six years, and he had changed quite a bit, but he was still recognisable. He stared helplessly as John Winchester entered the bookstore, into the café, and stood before him at his table.

“Dean,” he said, obviously attempting to hide the emotions on his face. 

“John,” Dean dipped his head, but made no move to stand.

John sat awkwardly in the seat across from his son. “How--How are you?” he asked feebly.

“I’m just fine,” Dean replied, a little too gruffly. “But you know I’m not one for small talk.”

“I know,” he sighed. “Look, I know this is pretty ballsy of me to be doing --”

“Yeah, I’ll say.”

“--but I got help, Dean. After I left, I fell apart even more. I realised what I had been doing to you. And Sam. And I hated myself for it. Bobby’s actually the one who saved my ass. I started going to therapy and working things out. And I don’t drink anymore. And I’ve got a steady job and I’m doing fairly well, given the circumstances.”

“I’m happy for you,” said Dean coldly.

“I understand why you’re angry. You have every right to be and I know you probably hate me, but I wanted to apologise for everything. And I know that isn’t going to be as simple as saying ‘I’m sorry’--”

“Damn right it’s not. Do you have any clue how much you fucked up my life?”

“No,” he said honestly. “Not really. I can imagine, but I don’t know because I wasn’t here. But do you think you could maybe give me a chance to try to fix this?”

Dean pondered this for a moment. He was completely torn. His father had been the catalyst that set off every poor decision Dean had ever made, and as much as he was mature enough to admit that those poor choices were his own, he couldn’t deny the anger he felt toward John. He still felt that if John hadn’t been the way he was, his life would have gone a lot differently. Still, he also couldn’t deny the fact that some part of him  _ wanted  _ to have his father back. He wanted to let him try again. After all, where would he be without the second chance Sam had given him after his drunken years?

“Fine,” he said finally. “But you know I don’t trust you, right?”

Relief spread across his face. “Thank you. Seriously, thank you. I can imagine how difficult this is for you.”

“Yeah, well. I’ve gotten second chances, too.” he avoided looking at John’s face.

There was a slightly awkward silence between the two before John said, “So tell me, what’s been going on? Ellen told me you got a degree? And Bobby says you opened a business, what’s that about? Really seems like you got your act together.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, I did. I have a degree in horticultural sciences and I opened a florist shop in town a couple years ago.” 

John huffed a laugh. “Florist shop, you gettin’ to be some kinda fairy?” He quickly said, “Only joking, only joking,” when he saw the look on Dean’s face.

“It’s a pretty successful business,” Dean said, ignoring the comment. “I’m hoping to expand at some point, just saving some money now. And no, before you ask, I don’t drink anymore.”

“That’s really good to hear, son. So, you seeing anybody special?”

Dean shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Yeah, actually.”

“Oh yeah? Can I meet her?”

He laughed dryly. “Yeah, one sec.” He stood and went to the register, leaving John in his seat looking rather confused.

“Hey, Cas,” he said quietly.

Castiel smiled at him. “Is it going well?”

He glanced back at his table. “Eh, could be a lot worse. So yeah, I guess. He’s asked to meet the person I’m seeing, if you want to come over.”

“Sure,” he said, sounding a little nervous. “Let me check with Ellen, she’s in the back.” 

Dean nodded and returned to his seat, where John said, “Ah she works with Ellen, huh?”

Dean just smiled and said, “Mhm.”

Soon Castiel came and sat beside Dean, poised a little too stiffly in his chair. 

“This is Castiel. Cas, this is John.”

But John let out a laugh. “Dean, seriously, you’re still doing this? Fucking the barista, huh?”

Dean saw Cas’ face turn red beside him; he grabbed one of his hands under the table and squeezed it for reassurance. 

“No,” he said calmly. “I am not ‘fucking the barista’.”

“Just the latest fling, I assume?” said John.

Dean kept his composure well, still looking straight into his father’s eyes. “No. Not a fling. He’s my boyfriend.”

“Oh,” he said, smile fading. “I’m sorry, son, I just--”

“I know. I’ve changed a lot since you left, John.”

“I see that. Well, I’m glad to see you’ve come to terms with your sexuality, son. I’m proud of you.”

This was  _ not  _ the reaction he was expecting. “Uh, thanks…” he managed.

“It’s good to meet you,” Castiel spoke up, extending his hand across the table.

John shook it, looking a little embarrassed. “Likewise, Castiel. Nice to meet you. Sorry about that, uh, Dean was quite the player when he was younger, if you know what I mean.”

Cas tilted his head. “No, I’m not sure that I do.”

By this time, Dean was becoming thoroughly embarrassed himself and any effort he made to hide his blush would have been futile. “John, please,” he said.

“Alright, alright,” he said, raising his hands in surrender. “But just ask Dean, my assumptions would have been justified eight years ago.”

“Did you talk to Sam?” said Dean, blatantly changing the subject.

“Yeah,” said John. “We’re meeting up tomorrow.”

“Good. He’ll probably be happy to see you.”

“Yeah, well he’s not the one I was worried about seeing. I really appreciate this, Dean.”

“I know,” he said, glancing at Cas.

The remainder of the meeting was brief, and soon John got up, shook Dean’s hand, and walked out of the book store. Castiel stood shortly after, placed a gentle hand on his back and said, “I have to get back to work, but I will call you later, okay?”

He kissed his head as Dean nodded, lost in thought. He barely remembered driving back to the flower shop because he couldn’t stop thinking about what would be different now that his father was trying to wedge his way back into his life. Part of him was angry with himself for even entertaining the idea that John could have changed, but another part of him hoped adamantly that it was true. And as he stood in the cooler, a thought occurred to him that maybe, just maybe, the smallest part of him was still afraid of John, though he would never voice that fear.

 

***

“So you were a player in high school, hm?” Castiel stood in his kitchen preparing some iced tea in an attempt to evade the scorching sun seeping through the living room window.

“Oh yeah, I heard some stories,” said Charlie, who was sitting at the kitchen table in a loose tank top and denim shorts.

“Ugh,” Dean sighed, throwing his head back against the couch cushion. “Can we not?”

“It’s just interesting,” Cas said teasingly. “He assumed you were, how did he say? ‘Fucking the barista’?”

Charlie erupted into laughter. It had been almost a week since Dean’s meeting with John and he hadn’t spoken much about it since, and Cas thought he’d lighten the subject a little by letting him know John’s comments hadn’t bothered him. He actually thought it was quite humourous. 

“I had a lot of sex with a lot of people when I was younger okay?” said Dean. 

“Is that so?” Cas raised his eyebrows, setting the iced tea on the table and sitting opposite Charlie.

“Leave it to John to bring up embarrassing stories even after six years of not seeing him,” Dean grumbled.

“So? Spill the beans!” Charlie exclaimed as she poured herself a glass.

“Look, I was young and stupid, alright?”

“Oh come on, Dean. You’ve probably always been the charmer, haven’t you? I’d sure use it to  _ my  _ advantage if it were me.” Cas moved his eyebrows suggestively.

“Guys, come on.”

If Castiel had been more adept at social situations and picking up on subtle cues, he would have stopped the bantering. But alas, Castiel had never been a social butterfly, and this was one of those times he seriously regretted his extreme lack of judgement.

“You were full of testosterone,” said Cas. “We get it, it’s fine. But Charlie’s right, we want the details.”

“Please stop,” Dean said rubbing his face.

He should have noticed the warning glance Charlie gave him, or the fact that she was remaining silent.

But he continued. “So, were you a ladies man or a man’s man?”

And that was it. Dean was up and headed for the door, throwing on his shoes and mumbling, “I need some air,” before storming off down the stairs.

Castiel looked over at Charlie. “I’ve misjudged the situation, haven’t I?”

She bit her lip nervously. “I’m afraid so.”

“Why didn’t you stop me?” he sighed.

“I thought he was joking around!” she said honestly. “I didn’t know he was actually pissed until two seconds after he asked you to stop. For the record, Cas, if people say ‘stop’ assume they mean it.”

He huffed, “I’m going after him.”

“I’ll be here.”

He swiftly made his way outside and jogged to catch up with Dean, who was already at the next block.

“Dean!” he shouted.

Dean stopped and turned to him. “Cas, I really don’t want to talk about this.”

“Dean, I’m sorry,” he said. “I was only joking, I didn’t think what John said had actually upset you.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. Castiel did not understand what the issue was, had he said something offensive? 

“I know you were kidding,” said Dean. “But my dad knew about my drinking problem, which started right before he left. And with the drinking came me, you know, burying all my  _ feelings _ .”

He stood awkwardly on the sidewalk, shifting uncomfortably from one leg to the other. Though Cas couldn’t tell if his discomfort was due to the heat of the sinking sun or from their conversation.

He didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry, I don’t see the relevance.”

“Cas,” he lowered his voice, stepping a little closer, “I was so far in the closet at that point in my life, I had sex with any girl who asked. It wasn’t me being a ‘player’, it was me ignoring my internalised homophobia.”

_ Oh _ , thought Castiel, understanding coming over him, and with it, a sense of shame. He hadn’t thought of that; he’d only assumed Dean had been out when he was in high school. 

“I see,” he said.

Dean continued. “And when I was drunk enough, I started bringing home random guys home too. And John knew about it. He’d give me shit for it. But you know, I just, I hated myself so much for it. I grew up being told it was  _ wrong _ ,” he sighed, exasperated. “I’ve never had an actual relationship with a guy. And for him to think you were--to think that I would treat you like I treated those guys, I just…” he trailed off.

“Dean, you know I don’t think you think that of me, right? I wouldn’t be here if I did.” He stepped closer to Dean.

“I know. I’m being irrational. It’s just, seeing my dad brought back a lot of shit and I don’t want to think about any of it.”

“I know you don’t want to hear this,” Cas said carefully, “but ignoring things isn’t going to fix them. I’m here to listen, you know.”

Dean took his hand. “I know.” He bit his lip before saying, “Can we just go have iced tea?”

Castiel smiled. “Of course.”

They headed back toward Castiel’s building hand-in-hand. Before entering the flat, Dean leaned close to Cas and whispered, “You know you’re special to me, right?” kissing his head.

“Yes, I know,” he replied, smiling broadly as he unlocked his door.

“Glad you didn’t kill each other,” Charlie greeted. “Who’s up for dinner at the diner?”

Mutually agreeing, the lot of them grabbed their keys and wallets and piled into Castiel’s station wagon, heading for Bobby’s diner. 

They chose a table near the one Cas and Dean had used on their first date, away from the bar near a window, out of which Castiel could see the beginnings of the sunset. He glanced around, noticing the place was much busier than it had been the last time he came. He had been here a few times after the first date, including a visit to meet Bobby. Although he had decided he liked Bobby before he met him, having heard about the role he’d played in Dean’s life, he felt reassured upon meeting him that he was indeed a good person. He wasn’t sure why, he just seemed very kind, though gruff and a little rough around the edges. 

It was nice to be sitting together like this, Castiel, his best friend, and his boyfriend. They each ordered their drinks and chatted lightly while they waited.

“How’s Ranunculus?” asked Charlie as she plucked a dessert menu from behind the salt and pepper shakers at the corner of the table.

“Business as usual, I suppose,” Dean replied. 

“You still want to expand?” 

“Yeah eventually. But after Sam graduates.”

“Isn’t that in June though? This coming year?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I can’t believe it. Kid’s not so much a kid anymore I guess.”

“What will you do with the shop?” asked Cas, setting his elbows on the table. 

“Well, I would like to make it bigger. I want to include other plants, not just flowers. Like medicinal plants, you know? I don’t know if that means I’ll move or what, but,” he stopped short at Cas’ slightly concerned expression. “Oh I mean move the shop to a bigger facility. In the city. Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere,” he laughed.

Castiel was relieved. It seemed silly of course, considering he’d only really known Dean for a fairly short period of time in his own mind. But it felt like much longer, and he had shared so much with him, gained his trust, learned to trust him. He felt that it was okay to be relieved, to know that he wasn’t going anywhere far. 

“That would be nice,” he said. “You’d appeal to more people, too, I think.”

“Yeah, I think I would.”

The waitress arrived with their drinks and they placed their orders, including a large helping for fries to share.

“Cas,” said Charlie, “what’re your plans?”

“For…?” He furrowed his brow.

“For the bees, silly. You told me a few months ago you didn’t want to stay at Harvelle’s for too long.”

“What’s wrong with Harvelle’s?” Dean asked, his tone teasing.

“Nothing, I do like it. But I’m not sure I can handle much more of the tourists. They make me feel rather… hostile at times.”

They all laughed at this, but Castiel continued. “Seriously though, I need to do something else. I think I may be on my feet well enough to be thinking about the apiary. I need more experience with small businesses though, I have none.”

“Well lucky for you I happen to know quite a bit about that,” Dean said, nudging Cas’ shoulder with his own. 

Their bowl of fries arrived just then and they all began munching. 

“What is it you want to do?” asked Dean as he grabbed a handful of fries. 

“Well honey is the main thing I’d be interested in selling,” replied Cas. “But then there are other products as well, from the wax. The problem is it takes a lot of time to get colonies going strong enough before you can take the honey. And you need to be sure not to take too much or take it too soon.”

Charlie waved a hand. “You’ve got time. I believe in you.”

Castiel smiled fondly at her. “I appreciate that.”

Their friendly bantering continued well through their meal and before they realised it, it was nearly 10:30pm and they decided to head out. Cas let Charlie out of the car at the nearby parking garage where she’d had to leave her car, all the street spaces having been taken. He waved her goodnight and turned the car around back in the direction of his building.

“Do you want tea before you go?” Castiel asked as he parked the car.

“Yeah sure,” said Dean, unbuckling his seatbelt.

They ascended the staircases and Cas flipped on the kitchen lights as he stepped through the door. Removing his shoes, he put the tea water on and went to his bedroom to put on more comfortable clothing. The night had, thankfully, brought much-needed relief from the August sun, though the temperatures were hardly cool enough to require anything more than a thin t-shirt and shorts. 

Dean sighed and collapsed onto the couch as Cas came back to the kitchen.

“This week has been too friggin’ long,” he said.

Pouring their tea, Castiel set the mugs on the coffee table to cool and snuggled up against Dean’s side. Dean wrapped an arm around his shoulders and kissed his head.

“I concur,” he said, kissing Dean’s shoulder. “I really don’t want to face more tourists tomorrow.”

“And I don’t want to face anymore irritated ‘happy couples’ because they changed their mind about flowers too late in the game.”

“Well tomorrow’s Friday, I think we can do it.”

“Mmm, probably,” Dean hummed in agreement and placed his hand on Castiel’s cheek, tilting his face so their lips met. 

Castiel loved kissing Dean. He’d never been one for too much physical contact or acts of affection, and for the most part, they were not overly so. But still, he was more affectionate with Dean than with anyone else he’d been with. He liked that he could take his hand if he was feeling anxious, and it would instantly make him feel more at ease, even if only a little. And when they weren’t in public, at either his or Dean’s flat, he loved being able to sit close to him, feeling his warmth and the steady rise and fall of his chest. 

Now he leaned against his chest, Dean’s back against a pillow on the arm of the couch. Feeling a little daring, he reached his hand up and ran his fingers through Dean’s hair and tugged at it just the slightest bit. Dean let out a quiet moan and Cas felt his tongue trace the bottom of his lower lip, at which point he pulled him closer. He kept one hand in Dean’s hair and the other at the collar of his shirt, relishing the feeling of their tongues sliding together. Dean placed his hand on the back of Cas’ head and ran his fingers slowly through his hair. He pulled back just enough to gently bite Cas’ bottom lip, causing a small whimper to escape Cas’ mouth. 

The thought had occurred to Castiel recently that at some point, he may not only be expected to take things further, but that he may actually  _ want  _ to do so. This was something he had regularly struggled with when it came to ensuring the happiness of his romantic partners. He was by no means ignorant to the progression of relationships, despite his lack of social skills. But he had never been the one to initiate sexual advances, though he usually reciprocated. In the past, sex had been something in which he’d engaged simply because he felt it was expected, not because he enjoyed it. In fact, he often felt he would  _ never  _ enjoy it. When he was in high school he used to joke with Charlie, saying, “I’ve got my own two hands, why do I need someone else to get me off?” But he learned quickly that relationships were  _ expected  _ to lead to sex, and he had long ago resolved to tell himself he didn’t have to like it, he just had to get it over with. He’d gotten into the habit of, for lack of a better phrase, going through the motions, on a sort of autopilot, whenever sex became the inevitable outcome of a situation. Sure, the first time had been mildly traumatising, given his past, but there came a point where he could block out everything, emotions altogether, and work his way through to the point where his partner would be writhing and panting with pleasure, even if he himself never was. 

With Dean, though, he never felt pressured to do anything. This was as far as anything had gone and Dean seemed fine with it. It wasn’t something Castiel was used to, but he had recently begun to wonder if perhaps, when the time came, he might actually  _ feel  _ something with Dean. After all, they had been together for four months, and others he had been with had anticipated sex long before this point. But he quickly talked himself out of thinking such things, feeling there was no reason to get his hopes up. He would just have to enjoy what he had with Dean for what it was, and accept the fact that his unfortunate childhood incident had left him unable to enjoy this seemingly simple pleasure.

They broke apart after while, studying each other’s faces. Cas sat up and took his tea in hand before settling back into Dean’s side. They sipped at their tea, enjoying the near silence, save for the sounds of the city traffic just below the window. When they'd finished, Dean stood and put on his shoes, Cas following him to the door. 

“Have a good night, Cas,” said Dean, kissing him goodbye.

“I will. You too, Dean.” He smiled as he watched Dean descend the stairs and out of sight.

He went about his nightly routine, continuing to tell himself that no, just because he was left trying to hide an erection as a result of this latest make-out session did not mean he would enjoy sex with Dean. And if he had to relieve himself of said erection while showering before bed, that was nothing to be ashamed of. And if he’d done so while thinking of Dean, well why would that mean anything at all?

**Author's Note:**

> Voilá! I really hope you like this one guys. Please comment with any suggestions and leave kudos if you dig it :) I'll be heading back to the States in a few short days, which means I'll probably have some time to kill in the airport and I'll post the next chapter on time.  
> Cheers everyone!


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